The Moments that Don't Shine
by Genis Aurion
Summary: ...aren't necessarily the unimportant ones. A KyleKenny story about the beauties in the simplest and least emphasized moments in life. Also featuring many StanKyle friendship moments.
1. Foreword

**Foreword**

_This collection is inspired by Zoshi the Confused's **The K Squared 100**. Like hers, this collection will also contain one shots based off of single, random words. _

_However, unlike hers, these one shots are all related, all forming one large story._

_What about?  
Well… life. At its simplest._

_These will all be KyleKenny one shots, with many appearances of StanKyle friendship moments. So, I hope you enjoy._

_**KK** - KyleKenny slash, one shot.  
**SK** - StanKyle friendship one shot.  
**KB** - KennyBebe friendship one shot.  
_


	2. I: Financing KK

**I: Financing  
**_(To provide with money, monetary resources.)_

Kenny McKormick sat motionlessly, his blue eyes glazed with tears he did well to restrain. He was shaking, down his arms and right to his hands, and in those trembling fingers he held a folded piece of paper. He had opened once, moments before, but he didn't dare take a second glance—he knew well what it contained, and he didn't need reminding.

Next to him sat Kyle Broflovski, who seemed equally cold, if not more, by the cruel, winter winds that blew through their mountain town that evening. He was attired in a brown, leather coat, light in color, and it was lined with a sheet of snowflakes, snow that had fallen from the sky only moments before. With one hand he held a portion of the paper in Kenny's hand, and the other he kept firm on Kenny's opposite shoulder.

The snow around them felt cold wherever bare skin was exposed, but neither cared. The two had other issues to deal with.

"It's going to be fine," Kyle whispered, giving his old friend a pat on the back. "Things will work out. They always have, before."

"For you, maybe." Kenny's voice was as cold as the air around them. "Kyle, I have no idea how this is going to be any better for me. I've never been any good at financing, since my shitface of a father never gave a fuck about that. And then, I haven't gone to college, even _with_ the money I earned from three part-time jobs during high school, so there's no way I can even get a well-paying job."

"If you just—"

"Kyle, I am _not_ going to take things one step at a time!" The blonde-haired boy waved the folded paper in front of Kyle's nose. "I've got bills to pay, damnit, and I'm only on minimum wage! Things are _not_ fine."

"I'll help you," offered Kyle silently, yet it had been enough for Kenny to grow silent. "I'll help you, whether in getting you a job, or paying your bills… just lemme help you."

Kenny stared blankly at Kyle, his hardened, blue eyes staring deep into Kyle's. "Why," began Kenny; "why are you doing this, Kyle?"

"Because… because I don't like seeing you hurt." Kyle let go of Kenny's bill statement to wipe the snow off Kenny's cheek. "So… so can you do me a favor, won't you?"

"I'll do you, sure… but what's the favor?" Kenny sank into Kyle's comforting arm, allowing himself to relax, his shudders becoming less infrequent as he found comfort in the warmth of Kyle's presence. "What favor, Kyle?"

"Smile for me?"

Kenny's gaze softened, turning to find Kyle's hopeful and welcoming smile beaming at him.

"…I think I could do that."


	3. II: Imagery KK

**II: Imagery  
**_(Language that appeals to any sense or any combination of the senses.)_

The silver shined in the gleam of the golden lights. They danced in midair, swaying as gravity and the horizontal airs would allow, and they seemed to swing pleasantly, as if greeting each visitor as they walked through the revolving, golden doors. People far below gazed in wonder at these silvers, occasionally gasping in awe as one passed under a golden light source, reflecting brilliant colors into the eyes of the audience.

People of all sorts of races were dining under the decorations above, all dressed in suits and tuxedos and dresses. They chattered amongst themselves, uncaring of people around them, not minding the slightest if they were overheard. From afar they all seemed happy, quite pleased with where they were, what they were doing, _how_ they were doing it.

Lines and lines of people dotted the perimeters, shined plates in hand, napkins shoved somewhere underneath, all waiting for their chance to swipe their share of the buffet. Far ahead rows and rows of delicious food waited for them, cooked vegetables, fried rice, stews, chicken, pork, beef, and foods from all cultures. Their scents wafted past the lines of heads eyeing the food eagerly, tantalizing those who were forced to wait longer….

From the golden doors, a man, dressed in a clean, white tuxedo, turned his head to marvel the scene. His eyes were already gleaming with excitement, even as he held his shabby wallet in hand. Scents of flavor drifted through his nostrils, and already he was craving the dinner awaiting him.

"You sure?" asked his companion, who was busy fixing the unruly curls on his head. "This is kinda fancy, don't you think?"

"I'm sure," replied Kenny, who sifted a hand through his own hair, absentmindedly. He had cut his blonde hair short for this occasion, to look proper, to look decent for Ky—"It's the only way I know how to thank you."

"It was nothing," muttered Kyle, turning away. "It was just a bit of money…."

"And you took time off work to help me find a better job!" added Kenny. "Kyle, that's not just '_nothing,_' if you ask me." Kenny placed an arm around his friend's shoulders. "Just relax, okay? Dinner's going to be on me, tonight."

"Kenny, you _just_ got your first paycheck! Don't you think—?"

But Kenny ignored him. "Kyle. It's on me… just gimme a chance to thank _you_, for once."

Kyle sighed, looking around the room and taking in the imagery he saw. "…okay. But next time we do this, I'm paying. Deal?"

"Deal."

* * *

_Thanks to **Zoshi the Confused** for reviewing!_ …_I hope to hear from more of you, soon.  
-Zak  
_


	4. III: Verve KK

**III: Verve  
**_(Energy and enthusiasm in the expression of ideas, especially in artistic performance or composition.)_

"…you shouldn't have seen that, Kyle," Kenny muttered quietly, avoiding the man's glance.

"But I think it's wonderful!" protested Kyle, pointing once more to the sketchbook on the dining table. "Besides, I didn't do anything wrong!—you just left it there, Ken."

Kenny sighed, hazarding a quick glance at the sketchbook. Of all pages Kyle had to see, it had to be _that_ one…. "You can't… you can't tell anyone about this though, okay?"

"Sure, I guess." He took a seat opposite Kenny, taking the book in his hands. "I think it looks nice, Ken."

"T-thanks…."

"When'd you start?" Kyle asked curiously, looking over its pages to find a rather red Kenny. "Dude, it's just drawing. Nothing to be ashamed about, there."

"But I…." Kenny shook his head. "I started that one in January…."

Kyle blinked. "Oh, right… no, I meant like, when'd you start drawing. Like, I never knew you could draw… really…." Well, except that _one_ time, when Kenny drew an evil clown with glitter and glue….

"For a while," Kenny muttered. "I didn't want anyone finding out, though… I thought they'd think of it as a girl's thing, really…."

"Can I keep it?"

The words took a while to register in Kenny's mind, yet the second he realized what Kyle had just asked him, he turned an even deeper red. "What?"

Kyle chuckled, looking at the sketch. "I like it… I was wondering if I could have it… or a copy of it, even."

"Why?" Kenny asked, looking away. "It's not that great."

"But it looks exactly like me!" Kyle exclaimed, comparing it to himself. "Come on, Ken, you've barely got any enthusiasm at all for you work! This is good stuff."

Kenny grumbled under his breath, and when Kyle asked him to repeat, Kenny chose not to.

"You can have it… I guess."

"Thanks, Ken. Can I just… rip it out of the sketchbook?"

"Yeah… sure…." Kyle smiled, doing exactly as he had said, but even Kyle continued to talk about Kenny's lack of verve in his works, and even as he continued to talk about framing the picture, using it as a sign of their friendship, Kyle never noticed the blush Kenny had developed, nor the nervousness he had felt, nor even the reason he had drawn it in the first place.


	5. IV: Adage SK

**IV: Adage  
**_(A wise saying made familiar by long use.)_

"…calm down, Kyle, I'll be over there in like, two seconds."

"Stan, why can't you be here _now_?" Kyle screamed through the phone's receiver, and on the other end Stan had to peel the phone away as to not become deaf. "God… what've I… what'd I…?"

"This happens all the time," Stan reminded him, getting into his car. "Why's it that you're only freaking out now?"

"I've… I've never done it…." It sounded like Kyle was near tears, and on his end Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. "Okay, okay, okay Kyle. I'm in my car already. I'll be there in two minutes, tops."

"I can't wait, he can't—"

"Calm _down_, Ky," and Kyle did just that. He could hear his quiet sobs still, Kyle's attempts in restraining his tears. "Have you tried calling 9-1-1?"

"9…1…1…?"

Stan hung his head, though quickly raised it as to not get into an accident. "Okay, Ky, the _first_ thing you do when someone's dying… is to call the fucking paramedics! Kyle, I know you're not in your right mind, but that's fucking common sense!"

"I… I, he, I—"

"Okay, I'm here. Save your breath. And try composing a proper sentence by the time I'm up there." Stan shut his cell phone and stuffed it into his pocket, almost throwing himself out of the car as he hurried to Kyle's apartment….

"HelookedeadtomesoIdidn'tcallanyoneexceptyouandI'm—"

Stan raised his hands. "Slow down, Ky."

Kyle grumbled and then repeated himself. "He looked dead to me so I didn't call anyone except you, and I know I should've called the paramedics anyway, but I couldn't… didn't think…."

Stan sighed, stepping inside the room, and he shut the door behind him. "Where's he?"

"In… in his room."

"What happened to him?"

"He, he…." Kyle hung his head. "I can't tell you all of it; he said he didn't want anyone finding out—" Kyle bit his lip, looking at Stan nervously. "He was bust at his desk when I entered the room, but I guess I surprised him, because he jumped out of his seat the second he heard me, and then he shot his head straight into that corner, and blood started spurring everywhere—"

"So you killed Kenny?" Stan asked quietly, and Kyle frowned.

"I told you that on the phone…." But then, a sudden realization hit him, and as he looked at Stan with a horrified expression, he uttered very quietly: "…does that make me a bastard?"

Stan laughed. "Ky, that's just a stupid saying we kept saying as kids. But… for not calling the paramedics?—yeah, I guess you'd be one."

* * *

_Thanks to **milkshakehobo** and **Angel Reid . Tobias Dominik** for reviewing!  
-Zak_


	6. V: Coronach SK

**V: Coronach  
**_(A song or hymn of mourning composed or performed as a memorial to a dead person .)_

Stan hummed on the side of Kyle's bed, trying his best to keep himself occupied. They were in Kyle's own room now; Kyle was hunched over his desk, though his shock and panic had died down somewhat, and he kept muttering to himself as he scribbled furiously. With the Jewish man occupied, Stan had nothing left for himself, and he probably would've headed home had it not been for Kyle's request for him to stay.

They had left Kenny in his room, ignoring the whole 'calling the paramedics' idea; there would be no need to dispose of the body, since he would probably wake up the next morning with the both of them. Still, knowing that there was a dead body in the adjacent room… that was still unnerving.

"What're you doing?" Stan asked curiously, clicking his tongue.

"Just… something." Kyle grumbled, furiously erasing something on his paper, and then continued his mutterings. Stan sighed, looking around the walls of the room. It had been a while since he'd been in here….

"Where'd you get that?"

"Hm?" Kyle dropped his pen and turned to where Stan was pointing. "The Cows poster? I've had it for a while, Stan."

"No, the thing below it… the smaller one." Stan stood up from the bed and strode next to it. "…did you get it at the fair or something?"

"No, a friend gave it to me." Kyle squinted. "Why?"

"It's pretty good." Stan smiled, leaning closer to inspect the picture. "They got the details down pretty well, Ky. Did you pose for this or something?"

"Not really." Or at least, he didn't _think_ he posed for Kenny… though he was quite sure. "He's a pretty close friend of mine. I'm sure he had some picture of me to base the drawing off of."

"I didn't draw this," Stan said, smiling.

"Okay, Stan, believe it or not, you are _not_ my only friend."

"But you said _close_ friend!" whined Stan. "And I _am_ your close friend."

"Kenny's a close friend to," Kyle said simply.

"So did Kenny draw this?" asked Stan, and Kyle felt a lump in his throat; he had promised not to tell anyone about Kenny's secret hobby….

"'course not," Kyle said quickly, turning back to his own work. "Hey Stan, can I have your help with something?"

"Sure, Ky," muttered Stan, and, with one, final, curious glance at the sketch, he peered over Kyle's shoulder. "What the he—is _this_ the thing you've been doing this whole time?"

Kyle nodded. "I don't know how to end it, though… It's not really a letter, so I can't just do a closing greeting or anything like that."

"So what _is_ it?" asked Stan, peering closer. "Looks like a poem to me."

"It's a coronach."

"A what?" Stan asked, blinking.

Kyle frowned. "Er… a poem… yeah, just a poem." Kyle mumbled something incoherent under his breath. "So, how do I end it?"

"I dunno," said Stan, "it's your poem, not mine."

Kyle glared at Stan. "Oh, gee, thanks Stan." He stared at the paper on his desk, his eyes focusing on the last line of scribbles….

Then, with a sudden change of facial expression, he grabbed his pen and wrote in the last line to his 'poem,' smiling as he looked at his final product. "There, done."

"Can I see it?" Stan asked, but Kyle merely folded the paper away.

"Not for your eyes, Stan," Kyle snapped, tucking it in an envelope. "After all, it's my poem, not yours."

* * *

_This one was a hard one, that damned word generator; Microsoft Word doesn't even recognize it as a word, even if it's in my large and dusty dictionary. Consequently, I don't particularly like this one much.  
Thanks to **Chainlinks**, **milkshakehobo**. **Zoshi the Confused** (x3), **Barbara** (x5), and **Angel Reid . Tobias Dominik** for reviewing!  
-Zak  
_


	7. VI: Impetuous SK KK

**VI: Impetuous  
**_(Characterized by undue haste and lack of thought or deliberation.)_

"So you're doing better?" Stan asked, and he was pleased to hear an affirmative answer.

On the other end of the receiver, Kyle's voice boomed with excitement. "He got up this morning, before me."

"I was kinda talking about you, though… not him."

"Oh," Kyle muttered sheepishly, turning red. "Sorry…."

"So is _he_ doing better, then?"

Kyle nodded profusely, even though he couldn't be seen. "He kinda… cooked breakfast for me too, but I think it was more out of appreciation than—"

"He cooked you breakfast?" repeated Stan, sounding shocked.

"Yeah," said Kyle, "but I'm used to his random acts of kindness, you know? He thinks he owes me still for what I did for him… which wasn't much to begin with, anyway."

"I think providing him a home and giving him financial support counts as 'much,' Ky."

"It's only until he can live off on his own!" explained Kyle, but he sighed in defeat; it seemed two people now believed he had done something spectacular. "Anyway, I think Ken's coming home late today, seeing as he isn't home yet."

"Presumably, yes."

Kyle shook his head. "And you say _I_ have a smart mouth…." He paused for a minute to reach one of the upper cabinets, pulling out bowls he had almost forget he even had….

"So tell me about this vacation," Stan said, changing the subject… somewhat. "…where exactly are you going?"

"Mountains," Kyle said simply. "Kenny's a photographer for the newspaper, and I write for it. I'm writing a story to prove that mountain lions aren't dangerous, and Ken… well… he opted to come with me."

"And you call this a _vacation_?" Stan asked curiously. "You're still working, though."

"Yeah, but at least I'll—_holyfuckingshitwhathappenedtoyou_, _Ken_?" At this Kyle dropped the phone, not even hearing Stan's worried calls as the phone crashed onto the phone. Kyle looked around, searching for the nearest towel, and as he swiped one off the kitchen table (how one had gotten there, Kyle didn't know) he began to wipe it callously on Kenny's bloody face.

"Fucking shit," Kyle cursed again, running back to the fridge to get some ice. "Kenny, what the hell did you do?"

"Gambled," Kenny said quietly, wearing a sheepish grin.

"You went _gambling_?" Kyle asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "Ken, what the hell?"

"Tis fine," he said weakly, proudly pulling out a small stack of money from his pocket. "I got five hundred… it was worth it."

"But Ken…. God, for _fuck's_ sake, that was… er, what's the word I'm looking for… that was _impetuous_ of you!"

Kenny blinked, raising an eyebrow.

"Never mind," Kyle said, dismissing the small hole in Kenny's vocabulary. "Ken… why'd you do this…? You know I hate seeing you hurt."

"You sound like my mom," Kenny said, turning away. "Well, not _my_ mom, since she probably wouldn't give a shit. But I mean, as if _you_ were my mom."

"Are you saying I'm old, then?"

"Well… fine, then. My dad. Or my boyfriend, even."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "I'm not gay, Ken. Got that?" Kenny's eyes faltered, and for a moment Kyle thought he had been hoping for a different answer. However, in the end Kyle regarded it as merely the wincing pain near his eye, and he continued to treat his friend's wounds.

"Can I still go with you to the mountains?" Kenny asked with a hopeful grin, and Kyle laughed.

"If you promise to no get yourself hurt again, then you can come still. Deal?"

"Fine," muttered Kenny, placing the ice pack to his head. Then, with a devious smirk, he added: "…but you can't resist five hundred, Kyle. Come on… you know you want some."

* * *

_There's the end of the first arc. I hope you guys are enjoying this, so far.  
-Zak_


	8. VII: Blimp KK

**VII: Blimp  
**_(A lighter-than-air airship.)_

"Are we done yet?"

"No." Kyle grumbled under his breath, hugging himself for warmth as they trekked through relatively steep paths set in the side of the mountain. Behind him tagged Kenny, camera encased and dangling from his neck, and he seemed to be unwilling to continue any further….

"Are we done yet?"

"No, Ken, we're not." Kyle grumbled all the more, squinting through the falling snow as he looked around. "Fuck, Ken, there aren't any mountain lions around."

"Do lions hibernate?" Kenny asked, frowning. "They might be in their little caves—"

"I'm looking for lions, Ken, not bears." Kyle shook his head, kicking a small stone off the mountain as he perched himself on the snow-covered path; within moments Kenny joined him.

"You can keep looking tomorrow, can't you?" asked Kenny, his voice full of hope. "It's getting too dark to be out here."

"Yeah, you're right. We'll just set camp here then, and start anew tomorrow."

"What?" whined Kenny, and he immediately pouted at his friend. "But there's a perfectly good inn at the bottom of the mountain! It's fucking cold here, Kyle!"

Kyle didn't respond. Indeed, spending the night up there would prove quite cold, yet at the same time, going all the way down there would sacrifice their chance at ever seeing those lions….

"Fine, we'll go back down. But I wanna take a look at the scenery up here before we leave."

"Good deal," said Kenny, and he pulled out his camera. The next moments were spent in silence, save the sound of the shutter, and as Kyle gazed below them he could faintly make out the interstate, cars busily speeding over the posted speed limit….

"Look!" cried Kenny, and Kyle looked to his pointed finger. In the distance he could make out a flock of birds…. "It's a blimp!"

"Oh, _that_," muttered Kyle, looking instead toward the red blimp. "What's it say, can you read?"

"I… I love you." Kyle stared blankly at the faraway object, for a second almost forgetting what he had asked Kenny only moments before.

"You… what?"

"No," Kenny said quickly, turning red. "That's what the blimp says. _I Love You_."

"Oh… oh, I get it." Kyle turned away, embarrassed. "Right… I didn't mean… sorry for thinking—"

"That's fine," said Kenny, who was also looking everywhere but Kyle's direction. "So, uh… wanna get going?"

"Gimme you camera."

Kenny blinked. "What?"

"Gimme your camera," and before Kenny had a say Kyle took the object out of its case. "Smile, Ken."

"Smile, wha—?" but Kyle pushed himself against Kenny's side, and, as he extended his arm in front of the two, he pushed the button on the camera.

Nothing.

"Kyle… I think you just turned it off."

Kyle frowned, bringing the camera back to himself. "Shit, I did…." Kenny laughed, looking away. Yet as he turned back, he found the familiar flash burning his eyes, that laugh still etched on his face as the picture was taken.

"…you turned that camera on pretty fast," Kenny muttered quietly. "You could've told me you were going to take it."

"Sorry," said Kyle, "but you've got a great smile, and I couldn't help but to take it then."

"…thanks." Kenny turned away yet, again, the color in his cheeks rising once more.

Kyle stood up, but Kenny didn't move. "Kyle?"

"You want to get to that inn or what?" Kyle asked with a smile, and, with his help, Kenny stood up.

"Too engrossed with that damned blimp," Kenny said, looking into the distance.

"Wonder who it's for?"

"No idea." The two stood still in silence once more, but it was rather short-lived as Kenny turned to the path behind them. "Wanna race to the hotel? Winner gets bed?"

"You're on," Kyle said, and with that, the two were off.

* * *

_A new arc! And thanks to **Barbara** (x2) and **Chainlinks** (x2) for reviewing!  
-Zak_


	9. VIII: Innkeeper KK

**VIII: Innkeeper  
**_(The owner or manager of an inn.)_

"I win," Kenny said cheekily, sticking his face in Kyle's. "Who's having the bed tonight, huh?—come on, Kyle, say it!"

"You are," Kyle replied weakly, bending over to catch his breath. "But they might… have double beds," Kyle added between pants.

"It'll be more expensive!" Kenny protested, pouting. "Why can't you just accept the fact you've lost, Kyle?"

"Because I _haven't_, Ken," Kyle snapped, hobbling over to the door. "There. I win."

"What the heck?" Kenny cried in disbelief, following his companion. "You didn't say anything about touching the goddamn door!"

"It's assumed," Kyle said, with the same, cheeky tone Kenny had used earlier. "Now I win, and you get the floor."

Kenny whined, but Kyle merely shrugged. "You believe what you want to believe, Ken. No matter how much you whine, you _know_ that touching the door's part of the game."

"I haven't played that game in forever, though," Kenny said, shaking his head. "We're in our fucking twenties, Kyle. I haven't raced anyone for something since I was… seventeen?"

"It was your idea," Kyle said, and as he patted Kenny apologetically on his shoulder they stepped inside the building.

"Welcome to the Mountain's Inn," a female greeted from the desk. "I'm the manager, here. How's your evening been so far?"

"Rough," said Kenny, still trying to catch his breath. "Those mountains are a hassle."

"Sure are. Rest assured, however, that here at the Mountain's Inn, all guests can enjoy our commodities freely to their expense, as we all know how tricky those mountains can get."

"Indeed," said Kyle, smiling at her. Yet there was something strange about her face, something that suggested she was making judgments of the two in her head…. "Any chance we could get a single bed room for the night?"

"Single bed?" the lady questioned, curling her brown locks around her finger. "Single bed, huh…? Well, let's see…." She gave a small giggle before punching buttons onto her computer; her manner of laughing caused Kyle to raise a curious eyebrow. "Oh yes, we have plenty. Would you like one with a hot tub?"

"Yes, plea—"

"No thanks," cut in Kyle, and Kenny frowned at him. "The cheapest one, if you will."

"Of course, of course…." She continued to type once more, until at last her face lightened. "Here we go… a room with a single bed. You _sure_ you don't want one with two rooms?"

"Of course, if you still—"

"I'm sure," cut in Kyle yet again, and he handed her his credit card. As she swiped the card, Kyle pointed sternly at his back pocket, where his wallet was, and, though Kenny understood, he pouted once more.

The woman giggled. "Here you are, enjoy your stay!—but I would like to warn you though…."

"Oh?" Kyle asked, frowning. "Something wrong with the room?"

"No, not at all," said the woman, playing with her locks again; "not at all, it's just… the walls are really thin in the building."

Kyle blinked. "So?"

"So…." She giggled once more. "You two may have to… keep it down a little, especially when you're…." She giggled yet again, and before Kyle could ask her anything else, Kenny pulled him away, room key clutched in hand.

"What the hell's that innkeeper's problem?" asked Kyle, mouth agape. "She's frickin' air headed, Ken. Giggling every five seconds, for _fuck's_ sake."

But Kenny only stared at Kyle with a blank expression, and when Kyle noticed this, he began to freak out at his friend.

"God, not you, too?"

"No," replied Kenny as they stepped into the elevator. "It's just… well… you _really_ don't know why she's giggling so much?"

Kyle shook his head.

"Well," began Kenny, "if you must know… she thinks we're a gay couple."

"What the _fuck_?" Kyle roared, and it was a good thing they were alone. Though, the thin walls…. "Where the hell's she getting that from?—where're the hell are _you_ getting that from?"

"She started giggling ever since we said single bed." Kenny chuckled at the thought. "Seriously, Kyle, when was the last time two guys wanted a hotel room with only one bed?"

Kyle gulped.

"She asked us for a hot tub because, well… you know…."

"I'm assuming the comment about thin walls was—"

"—because she thought we'd… well, fuck…." Kenny nodded his head. "And I'm not entirely sure, but she might've seen you pointing at your ass."

"My _wallet_!"

"—in your back pocket, your _ass_." It felt so strange to them, yet at the same time both couldn't help but to find the whole ordeal _quite_ amusing….

"Well," Kyle said at last, as they approached their assigned room. "If she thinks we're gay, then… well, what can we do? She can believe what she wants to believe, can't she?"

* * *

_God, I love this one. I hope you do, too? And thanks to **Noir est Monte** and **Chainlinks** for reviewing!  
-Zak_


	10. IX: King KK

**IX: King  
**_(One of the four playing cards in a deck bearing the picture of a king.)_

"…I call you," Kenny said, throwing pieces of marked paper onto their bed.

Kyle grumbled, chasing after their makeshift chips. "Ken, seriously, if we're going to play this, try keeping the chips from falling off the bed."

"Ah, don't worry about it, Ken," Kenny replied, shrugging the warning off. "Deal the cards, already."

Kyle sighed, reaching for the makeshift cards they had spent a good thirty minutes making. Granted they would probably have never done something like this at their own home, but blizzards called for such extremes. He placed one face down in a pile, and then placed three more afterward, face up.

Queen of Clubs. Nine of Spades. Jack of Diamonds.

"I barely know how to play," Kyle muttered, looking back at his own cards. An eight of Spades and four of Hearts? What could he do with that?

"Even after I taught you the rules?" Kenny sighed, shaking his head. "Fine, I'll just check it, then."

"Check?"

"When you call zero… when you don't bet anything. Seriously, Kyle, were you paying attention at _all_ when I explained all of this to you?"

"Not really." Not at all in fact, as he had been busy wallowing over the loss of a day in the mountains…. Hopefully that blizzard outside wouldn't last forever. "Then I check, too… I guess."

"Good call," said Kenny, nodding as Kyle placed another card in the burn pile; the next face up card was a six of Diamonds.

"What the hell am I doing…" muttered Kyle, shaking his head as he turned to Kenny. "You check, then?"

"Sure…." Kyle placed the last card—ten of Diamonds. "Kyle…" began Kenny, a look of triumph on his face. "Kyle, you know you don't have to check me each time, right? You can raise me if you want."

"Oh… so are you checking, then?"

Kenny shook his head. "I'll raise you by five," he said, throwing the flimsy paper atop the Jackpot Pillow. "Gotta put five in to keep going."

"Yeah, I know…." Kyle sighed; why was he even playing this game?—after all, Kenny had won five hundred dollars playing this game. There was _no_ way he'd beat him, anyway.

It was all for fun, anyway. But… what did he do with that money, anyway?

"Well?" asked Kenny, eyeing Kyle carefully. "Risk five tokens?"

"Uh, I—"

And then he saw it. It had been one of the easier hands to remember, especially since Kenny had tried teaching him so many hands at the same time. It was there, he was growing excited—a straight! Eight, nine, ten, jack, queen! He would win!

"How about this," Kyle said, his excitement washing over him. "If I win this hand, I get to sleep on the bed tonight. If _you_ win—"

"It's mine," finished Kenny, looking at his cards carefully one last time. "Okay, deal. Now show you cards."

"Show my cards…?" Kyle asked, frowning. "Why?"

"Well… it's the end of the round. All the betting's done, Kyle. So we show our cards to see who won."

"Oh, right…." He peeked one last time at his cards before flipping them over. "Straight," Kyle said, a smile beaming on his face. "Eight, nine, ten, jack, queen! I got a straight!"

"Good job," Kenny replied glumly, looking at his cards yet again. "At least you remember what a straight is."

"So, do I win?" Kyle asked eagerly. "And why aren't you showing your cards?"

Kenny raised an eyebrow, smirking moments after. "Well… fine."

And he flipped his cards. Six of clubs. King of diamonds.

"Straight to _king_," Kenny said, jumping gleefully onto the only bed in the hotel room. "Thanks for the bed, Kyle!"

* * *

_Thanks to **Chainlinks**_, **_milkshakehobo_**, **_Noir est Monte_**, and _**Angel Reid . Tobias Dominik** for reviewing!_


	11. X: Palpate KK

**X: Palpate  
**_(To examine by touch or feel.)_

"…god, Kenny, not again!"

Kyle's eyes watered with tears, looking down at the body in his arms. There was a frigid wind blowing past them, though no snow, but Kyle couldn't care less; his eyes lingered upon the tracks of the animal, the tracks that so mercilessly attacked Kenny as he took a picture….

"I'm a fucking bastard!" Kyle roared, lowering his head. Would CPR work?—was it even worth it? He'd come back to life in a few days, surely, but….

He shook his head in misery. Why had he let Kenny come? He was almost _asking_ for Kenny to be killed, sending the boy into the wilderness, with hungry animals starving from winter's trials. He should've stayed home! He should've stayed to tend to his head injuries!

But no, Kyle had let him come… he had killed Kenny, again.

Kyle's rage was inexpressible. He stood up, kicked snow, slammed himself into a rock wall (later realizing it could cause an avalanche, but thankfully none came… yet), and buried himself into Kenny's still body, continuously blaming himself for Kenny's death.

"Why am I the one who's always killing him nowadays?" Kyle wondered aloud, shutting his eyes as he looked away. "Is it because I'm the only one willing to help him? Is this some sort of curse on me?"

Or… was Kenny dying some sort of curse laid on him?

_Curses don't exist_, Kyle told himself, looking once more at Kenny's face. "Why do you have to keep dying, Ken? Is there ever a time you're not hurt?"

Kyle placed his head gently on Kenny's. Half of him wanted that avalanche to fall, to bury him with the rest of the mountain, to immerse himself in his fault for practically _handing_ Kenny to death… but he couldn't, he wouldn't. Kenny _needed_ him when he came back, or else his life would fall apart, financially….

Kyle reached a hand under Kenny's jacket, feeling Kenny's warm skin underneath as he tried searching for a pulse. Perhaps there'd still be hope… perhaps Kenny was still alive….

But if Kenny was dead… why was his skin still warm?

"Keep doing that and I might get hard," Kenny muttered weakly, yet just _hearing_ his voice had caused Kyle to jump in surprise.

"Ken, you're… you didn't…."

"No, I didn't," muttered Kenny, slowly picking himself up. "You told me to try not getting myself hurt, remember? I think I've been doing quite a good job, actually."

"Ken…" but Kyle was at a loss of words. Of all the things he could've said….

Kenny chose to speak for him. "So, I'm sure you have what you need for your article, now. Wanna go back to the inn?"

"Sure," said Kyle, relieved. "Sure, of course dude… but we're not racing."

"Fine." He reached an arm to help Kyle up, and, as the two made their way back, Kenny hazarded one more sly remark for the night. "Hey Kyle?"

"Yeah?"

"If ever… if ever I get horny… would you mind—"

"No, Kyle said sharply, ignoring the pout on Kenny's face. "Unless you're dying, I'm _not_ doing that again."

"Fine," said Kenny, and the conversation was left at that. Though… Kenny _was_ in an advantage. After all, dying seemed to be _quite_ often for him.

* * *

_I'm aware that these are starting to seem less like one shots and more like chapters. There're going to be like this during the major arcs, sadly, because I need a base storyline somewhere. However, I can promise you the next addition will seem more like a one shot. I promise.  
-Zak_


	12. XI: Witness SK

**XI: Witness  
**_(One who can give a firsthand account of something seen, heard, or experienced.)_

Stanley Marsh had been there since the beginning.

He was the only one who could testify the many aspects of Kyle's life. He was the only one who knew of Kyle's early fear of circles. Kyle had never even told his parents; Stan had been the only one to know why Kyle feared circles, how he was afraid of the only shape with no real sides, how he was always afraid it would slip out of his grasp if he ever tried to have it for himself.

Things like that made Stan his Super Best Friend. There were many things they shared with each other, things they _only_ shared to each other. And then, there were the things Stan knew that Kyle probably had no idea of himself. There were also the things that Stan and Kyle both knew, things that, as far as the other was concerned, only Kyle knew about.

It was just Stan's instinct, perhaps.

He had been witness to that event in their elementary years, when he and Kyle had played Truth or Dare with Wendy and Bebe in the tree house. He could testify Kyle's reluctance to that kiss, yet, at that moment, he could never have made anything out of it.

He could testify Kyle's eagerness to take Rebecca to the dance. He could testify his disappointment thereafter, when she turned out to be a total slut.

He could testify many things. But what was the point in being witness, when you couldn't explain or make sense out of anything you saw?

In high school, things were starting to become clearer for him. He was witness to Kyle's first date, how he had returned home in horrible spirits. He could testify that Kyle was talking a lot more to Kenny, a lot less to Cartman, and even less to himself….

During a party at Craig's place, Stan and Kyle had sat down and talked. _Talked_. What a funny word it was, yet such an underestimation of the actual act. It had been more like tying untied loops, meeting old friends, putting bricks inside holes of a wall, filling a well with the same water taken out of it….

Immediately after graduation had ended, Stan became witness to Kyle's continuing fear of circles.

But it wasn't a physical circle he feared anymore. It was Kenny.

Throughout his years in high school, Stan had never noticed. He had noticed the two talking, yes, but he had been so wrapped up in claiming his Super Best Friend back, he had barely taken notice in the relationship the two had developed. But at that moment, after leaving his years in high school behind, it appeared before him, the fear Kyle had had since their kindergarten years.

To Kyle, Kenny was a circle. And with the act of graduation, Stan knew that Kyle had lost that grip on his circle.

Contact with Kyle had been hard throughout college, especially since Kyle had gone to the other side of the coast. But between those email conversations, their small chats on cell phones, Stan began to realize many things.

Things he already knew, but forgot.  
Things he _thought_ he knew, but didn't.  
Things he never knew at all.

Perhaps that was why Stan was so happy when Kyle invited Kenny into his home. And this time he understood. He witnessed Kenny's move, he witnessed Kyle's gratefulness, and he could testify the fact that Kyle was relieved and happy, happy he hadn't lost the friend that had suddenly been so important to him. And this time, he knew what it all meant, he knew what he was witnessing, he knew what he was testifying to.

The day Kyle returned from the mountains, Stan witnessed something else.

Kyle had a firm grip on that side-less circle, now. And Stan could testify that it would prove difficult for him to let go.

* * *

_Next arc isn't going to start for a while. You guys can all enjoy my horrible creativity for the moment being.  
-Zak_


	13. XII: Massage KK

**XII: Massage  
**_(The gentle practice of manipulating the body's tissues in order to soothe and heal.)_

"You deserve a break," said Kenny McKormick as he walked into the kitchen that morning.

From the stove, Kyle rolled his eyes. "I'm in the middle of cooking breakfast, Ken. If you wanted to cook breakfast for me—again—you should've told me last night."

"That's not what I meant," said Kenny, and he held up a small ad in his hands. "Here," he said, pointing at the top corner of the ad. "Professional massage people, dude!"

"Masseuses?"

"Yeah, them! I'm sure you could use a massage, especially since you're working so hard on that article of yours."

"How much?" asked Kyle, taking the ad from Kenny's hands. "Hm… not bad, actually."

"See!" said Kenny excitedly, taking it back. "It's worth it! And they've even got a special for two or more people—!"

Kyle laughed in triumph, turning back to his scrambled eggs. "So _that's_ why you're making me a massage! You want to tag along for their bonus special, huh?"

"What?—no, of course not!" but it was quite evident that that had been Kenny's intention. "Well, fine, I guess… but so what? We _both_ deserve breaks!"

"I guess _you_ do," said Kyle, not looking at the man. "Why are you making me go along, then? Couldn't you just go by yourself?"

"No," replied Kenny, and he reminded his friend of the special. "I need to save as much money as I can."

"Oh… right."

"Besides, what if the masochists—"

"Masseuses."

"—_masseuses_ end up being really ugly! I'll need someone not so hideous to look at, or else my eyes will burn!"

Kyle raised an eyebrow and laughed. "And what, I'm that person?"

"Of course!" Kenny said, poking Kyle in the side. "I've heard you got some abs down there, Kyle."

Kyle shook his head and shrugged, taking a plate from the cabinet above. "Not really… but thanks."—though he was lying, and Kenny knew it; those days at the public pool was all the proof he needed.

"So are we going or not?" asked Kenny, still wearing that foolish grin on his face. "Please, Kyle, please, please, please—"

"All right," snapped Kyle, "but only if you set the table."

"Deal!" exclaimed Kenny, and he immediately took the plates from Kyle.

It seemed life between the two was all about deals, nowadays.

* * *

_One or two a day, from now on… That way more people have a chance to read, and more people can review. Speaking of which, thanks to **Phoenix II**, **Barbara** (x5), **Chainlinks**, and milkshakehobo for reviewing!  
-Zak_


	14. XIII: Coffee KB

**XIII: Coffee  
**_(A beverage consisting of an infusion of ground coffee beans.)_

Even though she looked like a large-breasted, air-headed cheerleader in her younger days, Bebe Stevens actually turned out to be a rather smart person.

Especially when it came to reading Kenny.

She had a particular interest in the boy, ever since they were in high school. Wendy and Heidi and Powder had all disliked the idea, saying he was the male representation of a whore, but somehow that had appealed to her. Not in the fact that he'd sleep around, of course, but more of the expertise he would've obtained…if he really _were_ a whore.

Through college she was boyfriend-less, though for no particular reason. Occasionally she would ask Wendy to ask Stan about him, and, for the most part, the news she got back was all good.

That had been enough for her.

One day, via Stan, she had learned that Kenny was staying with Kyle. An interesting discovery on her part, especially since she had half-expected to find Kyle with Stan. But nevertheless, she felt obligated to pass by a visit, and, after interrogating Wendy, who interrogated Stan, she learned of their address and stopped for a visit.

"Bebe!" Kyle greeted her, a pleasant smile plastered on his face. "It's been a while!—come in, come in!" She smiled in return, taking off her shoes at the door before stepping into the hall.

"Kitchen's this way," continued Kyle, escorting her through the doorway. "Ken! We've got a visitor!"

"I'm busy!" he called back. "Deadline's tomorrow and I gotta get these photos edited!" Kyle frowned, turning to Bebe, but he needed not repeat himself; Bebe understood the blonde's preoccupation.

"Tea or coffee?" asked Kyle, reaching in the upper cabinets.

"Coffee's fine," she said, and Kyle went right to boiling water. "You think I could see Kenny for a second? I'll come back down for the coffee, afterward… if that's okay with you."

"Sure, sure!" Kyle said freely. "He might be busy, but you can go try. Don't go to the room across his, though. My room's kinda messy right now."

Bebe laughed and assured him she wouldn't go, and with that she ascended the stairs. What was she hoping for?—a date? Perhaps. Maybe just an affirmation that she'd at least have a chance.

She knocked politely on the door.

"Kyle, I'm busy!—and you should be working on that damn article of yours!"

"Kenny, can I talk to you?"

A pause.

"…Bebe?" he asked through the door, and before Bebe realized it, the door swung open. "You're the visitor, huh…?" He gulped, turning to his desk. "I guess you can come in."

Bebe nodded thankfully, entering the room as she sat on his bed.

"I didn't know you drew," she said, looking at his walls. It seemed, to her at least, that Kyle had been the predominant subject of his drawings…. "Anyway, uh, Kenny…?"

"Sup?"

Bebe frowned at the statement, but continued. "I was wondering… maybe we could go somewhere later. Not like today, because I know you're busy. Another day, you know… just to catch up on things."

Kenny eyed her questioningly. "A date?"

"No," she lied. "Well… yeah." Kenny gave a sigh, turning back to the small computer on his desk (a computer borrowed from Kyle, of course) as he began clicking away once more. "Kenny?"

"Is this the only reason you came here?"

"No," Bebe lied again, "I came to see Kyle, mostly…." Another lie.

"If it's not a date, then I might be willing to." Bebe's heart sank, but Kenny wasn't done. "Bebe, I, er… you… I mean…. I've got someone else in mind, sorry…."

"Oh," she said quietly. "Someone I know?"

"Er… yeah?" Kenny turned red at the mentioning, and Bebe nodded, looking around the room once more. So _that_ had been her affirmation, except… not so much an affirmation. On the contrary she had realized the truth: she'd have to give up her high school fantasy once and for all, just as she had tossed away the girl she once was during a process called maturing….

But who did he like inside?—Bebe had an idea.

"You know," began Bebe, standing up to head to the door. "I think men are like coffee."

Kenny blinked. "What?"

"Men are like coffee," she repeated, smiling. "The best ones are rich, warm, and keep you up all night. At least, I like to think so." She gave a nudge out the door, indicating whom she was referring to. "Don't you think so, Kenny?"

"What?—I mean, well, uh… I dunno, maybe."

"I think you do," Bebe answered for him, looking around at all the pictures of Kyle in his room once more. "Anyway, nice seeing you. I'll be downstairs with Kyle."

She left his room with a broad smile on her face. Because of coffee, she knew his secret.

* * *

_Uh_…_ That's more for an advance in plot_…. _But it DOES tell you something about Kenny.  
_Thanks to **Barbara**, **kyleisgod**, **milkshakehobo**, **Angel Reid . Tobias Dominik**, and **Chainlinks** for reviewing!  
_-Zak  
_


	15. XIV: Knowledge KK

**XIV: Knowledge  
**_(The awareness and understanding of facts, truths or information gained in the form of experience or learning.)_

He never knew.

He never knew the complexity of the situation. He didn't recognize it, he _couldn't_ recognize it, for to him, Kenny was only a long-lost friend, a person he needed to place in top priority if he ever wanted to see their friendship survive.

He never knew of Kenny's gratefulness, even as he basked in his own euphoria. Hail nor rain nor snow could dampen his spirits, and the hope he thought he had lost was revitalized once more.

He never knew of Kenny's intentions, even as he paid for a forty-dollar meal for two at a fancy restaurant. He never yearned to ask—he thought he already knew. But Kenny only continued to live in the shadows of his provider.

He never knew of Kenny's talent, not until Kenny had haphazardly left his sketchbook on the table, flipped open to a portrait of him. He adored it, asking Kenny if he could keep it, and, secretly, Kenny happily obliged.

He never knew of Kenny's hidden drawing, the one he refused to draw within the exposed pages of a sketchbook, the one he kept close to him, locked away in his desk, in case the other would chance up on it once more. A picture of himself, a picture with _him_, a picture of hands held tightly within each other, a picture of hope, _his_ hopes, his dreams, and his unreality.

He never knew of Kenny's desire to tell him his secret quiet. The gambling money won, and then being spent, completely unnoticed by the other, not even making the connection to the blimp the two had seen. His subtle moves would have to do for now, because Kenny _did_ know the possible consequences of screwing his only chance up.

He never knew of Kenny's hidden longing for the innkeeper's assumption to be true. He scoffed at the idea, not noticing the red in his friend's car, not noticing Kenny's foolish grin or the longing hope the blonde held inside. He could not notice, he _would_ not notice, because he never knew.

He never knew Kenny's determination to make him happy. He had told him the one thing he hated, to see Kenny hurt, yet he never realized the hidden motivation, the ulterior strength Kenny found in this dislike. He knew neither the inspiration he gave Kenny, nor the reason Kenny now struggled to live.

He never knew of Kenny's subtle flirtations. Kenny probed at he idea of homosexuality, stoked the fires of the innkeeper's assumptions, complimented the physique he longed to one day conquer his own. He knew from probing that his chances of coming on top were now all the slimmer, but his hopes Kenny still kept high above the suffocating water now drowning his future with him.

He never knew.

He would never know, because he didn't have the curiosity to deviate from the path ahead. He couldn't peel his eyes off the road that led him through the course of his life, and Kenny knew that even one glance would make all the difference.

One glance from that road would change all that. One glance and Kyle _would_ know, because he would then have the knowledge to realize the thing he never knew.

Until then, Kyle would never know.

He would never know that Kenny loved him.

* * *

_I like this one. The one after this will be a lot lighter, though, I promise.  
Thanks to **Barbara** (x2) and **Angel Reid . Tobias Dominik** for reviewing!  
-Zak_


	16. XV: Oral SK KK

_If you like this series of one shots, please check out **The K Squared 100**, by Zoshi the Confused. Her work is what inspired me to start this. Her one shots aren't linked like mine are, but they are much more awesome. I think she might be on vacation right now, too, so leaving a few (A LOT, I'd prefer, because she deserves them!) reviews with her story should make her happy when she gets back.  
If you like deep, well-thought of one shots, and if you like KyleKenny like we do, I highly recommend giving her story a shot._**  
**

* * *

**XV: Oral  
**_(Using speech rather than writing.)_

"Wendy doing all right?"

"She's fine… overtime again, as always. I swear, she's a workaholic."

"What's wrong with being a workaholic? I think working's fun."

"Maybe for you. She's a real estate agent, Ky. It's not fun, what she does. At least you write about different stuff each time."

"It gets boring, Stan, especially when you aren't assigned something you particularly like."

"You don't get to choose?"

"Not all the time, no."

"Oh. Hold on, Ky, Wendy's calling. I think she wants me to make dinner tonight."

"Okay."

A pause.

"Yep, she wants me to cook. You still there?"

"I'm here."

"Good. Hey, so how's Kenny doing? He seems… a bit down, lately."

"He does?"

"You didn't notice? You practically live with him, Ky."

"I've been busy with work, Stan."

"…workaholic."

"I'm not alcoholic!"

"I said workaholic, Ky. You're both blind and deaf."

"How am I blind, you can't even see me!"

"…I'm talking about the Kenny thing."

"Oh. Right."

A noise.

"Sorry, I was trying to pull a pan out. Wendy's shaking her head at me right now."

"Nice. Maybe I should just call you back?"

"Nah, I'm fine. I haven't talked to you in a while anyway."

"True."

In a whisper: "You told Kenny about Wendy's surprise party, right?"

"I left a sticky note on the laptop he's borrowing. Hopefully he sees it. Actually, he _better_ see it, because I need the eggs to make that cake of hers, and if he doesn't stop by Wal-Mart like I asked him to, there's no way that cake's gonna get baked."

"He probably didn't get the note. Wendy's like that, too. If I don't tell give her oral instructions, she won't remember it."

"I see. No, I think Kenny saw the note, because he needed it at work today."

"I dunno, Ky, he might."

"Hold on, Stan, I think Kenny's home now."

"Okay."

A moment of silence, interrupted by Kyle's angry voice.

"Hello?"

"Ky, you okay?"

"You're right, Kenny forgot."

Kyle yelled to Kenny in the background.

"I'm gonna have to go get it myself, now."

"Oh, okay. You'll be leaving, then?"

"Yeah, Kenny's like Wendy, then. I guess I'll have to be giving him more orals, then?"

"Oral directions? Yeah, I guess."

"Yeah. Well… later, Stan."

"Later Kyle."

The line went dead.

"Read the sticky notes next time!" Kyle yelled, not entirely too pissed off, yet still quite angrily. Kenny watched as he grabbed his coat and stalked off, but he was barely paying attention.

Kyle would be giving him more orals…? That didn't sound too bad at all, actually….

* * *

_Almost all dialogue. It's a pity the random generator gave me "oral" this early in the series, though.  
Thanks to **Phoenix II** (x14), **Angel Reid . Tobias Dominik**, **milkshakehobo**, **lightskaylaction**, and **Chainlinks** for reviewing.  
-Zak  
_

_ (And don't forget to read **The K Squared 100**, by Zoshi the Confused!)_


	17. XVI: Disk KK

**XVI: Disk**

"I'll be back in an hour," Kenny told Kyle quickly, and as the redhead turned around he caught a glimpse of Kenny's orange hoodie running past him.

"Ken, wait—where're you going?"

"To the library," Kenny yelled, stuffing his shoes on tightly. "I gotta print something up, and the printer jammed."

"It did?" Kyle asked curiously, and he left his room to look at the printer in Kenny's room. "Fuck, Ken, it _is_ jammed…."

"I'll fix it later," said Kenny, who returned through the doorway. "If you want I'll get toner on the way back from the library."

"Please," Kyle yelled, and Kenny acknowledged the response. That had been an oral direction, Kyle noted to himself, so there'd be no chance in him forgetting… plus, Kenny had made the offer, so there was a good chance it'd be done.

As soon as he heard the door shut Kyle returned to his own computer. He had an article to write still, and he was barely anywhere in finishing…. Who really cared about dog fashion shows?

…apparently, some people did.

He grumbled, opening the CD drive as he placed a music disk into it, shutting it before turning back to his computer. Stan had suggested Enya some time ago, and even though he personally thought that was probably better listened to under stress and when you wanted to sleep, Stan claimed it was good for while trying to work, too. So, he had borrowed Enya's latest music disk, and gave it a try.

It was quite soothing, and as Kyle found himself in front of the computer, he found it easier to concentrate. It seemed the anger he had for his story article, the stress he had been under… they had all washed away….

He began to type. He wasn't sure where his motivation was coming from, or how he could possibly be getting so much done about a subject he hated. Yet with the mood the music created, he knew almost nothing now could prevent him from finishing that article….

Except his phone ringing.

"What is it, Ken?" Kyle said, somewhat irritably. "I'm trying to get work done, here."

"It doesn't work!" Kenny exclaimed, sounding panicked. "Kyle, it doesn't work!"

"I know our printer doesn't work, Ken, that's why you went to the library. Did you remember to get toner?"

"No, Kyle, I'm still at the library! I can't the computer to print it!"

Kyle frowned, stepping away from his computer as he switched the phone to his other ear. "Why not?"

"The computers here don't read floppy disks!"

Kyle hung his head. "Ken… almost all computers don't have floppy drives anymore….

"Oh…. Fuck. I guess I'll just have to email it to work, then. You still want the toner?"

"Yes please," Kyle said, and with the exchange of goodbyes, the line went dead. It seemed Kyle would need to teach a thing or two to Kenny about technology….

* * *

_I don't like this one, mainly because the generator gave me a crappy word. Reviews are still nice, though.  
Speaking of which, I don't think any of you gave **Zoshi** reviews for her KyleKenny oneshots_…_ tsk tsk.  
Anyway, thanks to **Barbara** (x2), **lightskaylaction**, **milkshakehobo**, **Phoenix II**, and **Angel Reid . Tobias Dominik** for reviewing!  
-Zak  
_


	18. XVII: Steering KK

_Another crappy word_… _blame the generator. Sorry about this crappy chapter, too._

* * *

**XVII: Steering  
**_(Direct the course; determine the direction of traveling.)_

Kenny grumbled, placing his hand firmly on the curved object around him and tightening his grip as his other hand found its way to the stick.

"Do it already!" exclaimed Kyle, and Kenny did as he was told. He jerked it back, feeling it shake between his fingers, and with a small gasp of shock, Kenny found the engine roaring to life.

"Kyle, I'm… nervous…."

"Stay calm," Kyle said, nodding his head as he looked behind them. "Kay, no one's in the road. It's safe to back up now."

Kenny did as he was told, though as he turned the wheel, he ran straight into the garbage bins set out for collection. "Fuck," he muttered, shaking his head. "Kyle, I can't do this! I think I'll just keep walking to work."

"Don't be an idiot," replied the redhead. "I didn't ask Stan to get me this car for nothing. Besides, you've gotta learn how to drive eventually, Ken."

"I'd rather walk!" repeated Kenny, shifting the stick from reverse. "It won't move!"

"It's on neutral!" said Kyle, changing the gear for him. "It's going to be okay, dude. Just… calm down. And focus on your steering." Kenny whimpered, pressing on the gas, and the car gave a jump start as it raced perhaps too quickly down the road.

"Slow down before turning—slow _down_!" But Kenny had made the turn at full speed, Kyle thrown right to his window, and as Kenny turned to him to apologize, Kyle refused to accept it.

"Stop sign!" said Kyle in lieu of a response, and Kenny pressed on the brakes. This time, Kyle found himself being thrown forward, the back of his head colliding back to the seat with a _thud_.

"You okay?" Kenny asked worriedly, now ignoring the honks behind him.

"I'm… fine…. I don't think I've got whiplash or anything…." Kyle braced his neck, trying to turn to Kenny.

"You're not fine!" said Kenny, giving the finger to the angry drivers as they honked at him. "I'm taking you to the hospital." He found his hands on the wheel once more, preparing to make a left toward Hell's pass… though it was awfully far.

A hand on his own, however, caused him to stall. "Ken," began Kyle, his hand still on Kenny's, whose hand was on the wheel. "Home. Take me home."

"But—"

"I'm fine… please, Ken… just… take me home." But Kenny was barely paying attention, his mind more focused on the hand that was still on his….

It was only when Kyle had realized their conjoined hands, when Kyle had turned red and discontinued the connection, when Kenny had finally made his decision. With his voice dripped in disappointment, he turned to Kyle and said:

"Fine… home."

Kenny turned back to the road and drove him home, though barely catching the grateful smile Kyle cast him. And with the feeling of Kyle's hand still fresh on his mind, he finally found the calmness he wished he'd had since the second he stepped into the car.

* * *

_Thanks to **lightskaylaction**, **Barbara**, **Chainlinks**, **Angel Reid . Tobias Dominik**, and **Phoenix II** for reviewing!  
-Zak_


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